Author Archives: Hiram

About Hiram

Hiram is an author from the north side of Chicago who has written for The Humanist, Infidels, Occupy, and many other publications. He blogs at The Autarkist and is the author of Tending the Epicurean Garden (Humanist Press, 2014), How to Live a Good Life (Penguin Random House, 2020) and Epicurus of Samos – His Philosophy and Life: All the principal Classical texts Compiled and Introduced by Hiram Crespo (Ukemi Audiobooks, 2020). He earned a BA in Interdisciplinary Studies from NEIU.

Nature has no masters: Lucretius, Epicurus, and Effortless Action

“Nature does nothing, and yet nothing remains unaccomplished.” – Tao Te Ching, with “nature” replacing the Tao

Wu Wei (Doing Nothing 無爲) is a key concept in Taoism and in Chinese philosophy. Encyclopaedia Britannica defines wu wei as:

the practice of taking no action that is not in accord with the natural course of the universe.

Which reminds us of the Epicurean insistence of living in accordance with nature, defined as living pleasantly (rationally and pragmatically following the pleasure impulse and evading the pain signals). According to The School of Life,

It means being at peace while engaged in the most frenetic tasks so that one can carry these out with maximum skill and efficiency. Something of the meaning of wu wei is captured when we talk of being ‘in the zone’ – at one with what we are doing, in a state of profound concentration and flow.

… so that it seems that wu wei is a way of acting that does not interrupt the natural flows, including those of sentience and attention. Wu wei also is associated with the enjoyment of things without clinging or yearning. A metaphor for this is the bee which goes from flower to flower, enjoying the nectar freely, and moving on. We also see the logic of wu wei in the Lathe biosas (Live unknown) teaching, and in the focus on natural and necessary pleasures which are easy to get.

In Taoism, the focus is less on accepting that which you cannot change (as the Stoics do), and more on acting efficiently and effortlessly. A clear, non-mystical understanding of wu wei helps to remind us of the wisdom of choosing our battles, and choosing the most efficient and opportune moments and circumstances in which to act. According to this essay by LR:

A better way to think of it, however, is as a paradoxical “Action of non-action.”

This is very problematic for us, since Epicurean philosophy frowns upon unclear speech. But wu wei is far from a mystical and unpragmatic idea. It’s applied effectively in many fields, including business, politics, and martial arts.

Over 20 years ago, when I studied tai chi under an instructor who had been trained in China, he explained wu wei to me by teaching me that in addition to evading or dodging a blow and allowing the opponent to tire and hurt himself in various ways, we can also use the momentum from our own bodies and the strength of our legs when we counter-attack. This, too, is wu-wei, and it’s not just effortless: it’s efficient. He struck a blow once from a position of being steady on his feet, and then another one with a dancing motion, using his legs to add momentum to the blow. This second blow was, naturally, much stronger than the first (because he used momentum and I felt the weight of his whole body), and it pushed me back. He then said: “THAT is wu wei”. I was planning to move to Chicago in a month, so my tai chi classes were brief, but I always remembered this encounter, and the sense that the Sensei was on to something.

Sometimes wu wei is about the use of observable factors over which we may have no control, and sometimes it’s about the employment of the few other factors over which we DO have control, but that when applied at the right moment and in the right way, create much more effective ways of acting in the world thanks to the assistance of nature. According to this essay,

Another example of Wu Wei is the cutting of wood. If you go against the way the tree grew, the wood is difficult to cut. The wood, however, splits easily if you cut against the grain. When sawing wood, many people are in a great hurry to power through the block and do not realize they are splintering the back edge. Instead, a skilled carpenter will let the saw do the work, patiently allowing the blade to glide across the wood without causing any splinters or tiring themselves out.

Wu wei reminds me of the way in which sleep assists in neuroplasticity and in the process of memorizing and learning. Before we are able to perform a task thoroughly and subconsciously, without even thinking about it, many neural connections must happen in our brains, and these neurons do their repair work at night while we sleep. We do our active memorizing and learning while we’re awake, but (arguably) the most important work happens at night, when the brain really goes to work on learning. We must give up the power over the tasks or information that we’re learning, and allow the brain to rest, in order to learn. Without this effortless aspect of the process, learning does not happen. According to this study:

… during sleep, the brain must also stabilize key synapses to prevent what was learned the previous day from being eliminated by new learning experiences…

… the REM stage may make learning before sleep more resilient to interference from subsequent learning.

Unlike non-REM sleep, the sharp fall in plasticity during REM sleep was only seen among the volunteers with a task to learn.

This suggests that the stabilization that occurred during REM sleep was focused exclusively on synapses involved in learning this task.

Darwinian natural selection provides us another example where, without much effort on the part of sentient beings, things continue along their course, and even evolve into a magnificent variety of lifeforms. If some mutation, or some instinctive behavior, results in advantage for a creature, then that creature is more likely to survive and pass on their genes while others do not. Over time, only the better adapted creatures will remain. Like water, nature in all things takes the path of least resistance.

Another application of wu wei happens in communities where engineers of the beaver species have interfered with human communal engineering decisions. Scientists have figured out that if you play the soundtrack of running water, upon hearing it, beavers will begin to build dams by instinct. So they are using this to manipulate beaver behavior as needed. Rather than fight the critters, rather than make countless efforts, rather than be in control, humans simply need to encourage the creature to do what it’s programmed by nature to do whenever it hears running water.

We must not force Nature but persuade her. We shall persuade her if we satisfy the necessary desires and also those bodily desires that do not harm us while sternly rejecting those that are harmful. – Epicurean Saying 21

I have long considered that pleasure ethics often involves a practice of applying the same technique that we apply with the beavers, with ourselves; a practice which–in my view–requires insight, wisdom and self-compassion.

Epicurean Effortless Action

I have shared all these case studies on effortless yet efficient action in order to show that, while sometimes our instincts are triggered in vain, most of the time it does make sense to trust the wisdom of nature. A clear insight into wu wei may help us in our choices and avoidances, to more efficiently choose our efforts, and to act in a manner that is more confident, more efficient, less anxious, and yet paradoxically less in need of control. But what does Epicurean philosophy say concretely concerning effortless action? Epicurus’ Principal Doctrine 26 says:

The desires that do not bring pain when they go unfulfilled are not necessary; indeed they are easy to reject if they are hard to achieve or if they seem to produce harm.

Epicurus offers us two criteria in our choices and avoidances that justify not pursuing unnecessary pleasures: if they’re hard to achieve, or if they’re harmful, then it’s easy to dismiss them. This first criteria, of course, reminds us of wu wei (effortless action), and also the Doctrine seems to imply that it is desirable to live in such a way that our choices and avoidances tend to produce pleasures that generally require little effort.

Principal Doctrine 30, on the other hand, offers us two criteria to classify some natural desires as arising from groundless opinion:

Among natural desires, those that do not bring pain when unfulfilled and that require intense exertion arise from groundless opinion; and such desires fail to be stamped out not by nature but because of the groundless opinions of humankind.

Notice the second criterion involves the desires that require intense exertion. Here again, we find an ethics of effortless (or low effort) action in Epicurean Doctrines, tied to the accusation that the justifications for exertion involve faulty thinking not based on the study of nature.

We see in Epicurean pleasure calculus and in wu-wei a tendency to affirm nature, as well as some distrust of culture or artifice. We also see a tendency to follow the path of least resistance. But when we read Lucretius and consider Epicurean physics, wu wei comes into a different relief.

Effortless Action and Epicurean Atheology

The fullness of the pragmatic repercussions of these considerations, ordinary and seemingly unrelated as they are, is carried to its conclusion by Lucretius. This is the beauty of Epicurean philosophy: it rationally and pragmatically weaves cosmology, physics, epistemology, and ethics into a single, coherent tapestry.

If you grasp these points well and hold to them,
you will see at once that nature is free,
liberated from her proud possessors,
doing all things on her own initiative,
without divinities playing any part.

Lucretius, On the nature of things, Book II

… which, of course, has repercussions for how we should live our lives (the ethics). The gods do not govern, create, or interrupt the workings of nature. Therefore, even if we attribute an artistic-aesthetic or ethical role to the gods in our lives, we need not worry about appeasing them. This, too, allows us to engage in more effective action in our environment, as it protects us from the degrading superstitions of the mobs who are forever appeasing gods out of unwarranted shame or fear.

Without gods managing everything, nature is free. Nature acts according to its own laws and cycles, which are unconscious and impersonal, and it is by prudently acting in accordance with (or not against) these cycles and laws that we act most efficiently.

How Do We Memorialize our Fallen?

The noble man is chiefly concerned with wisdom and friendship; of these, the former is a mortal good, the latter an immortal one. – Vatican Saying 78

“Of all the things that wisdom provides for a happy life, by far the greatest is friendship.” – from Jesús’ instagram feed

By now some of you will be aware that our friend Jesús (SoFE member and one of the admins of the Spanish SoFE group) passed away around the 20th in a bicycle accident. Jesús was a professor of political science in Venezuela. His way of dealing with all the things that have been happening in his country was through the frequent use of comedy and cynical commentary. He was instrumental in the last two years in translating many writings for the Spanish page of the Society of Friends of Epicurus. He often carried a copy of Epicurus’ Doctrines with him for study and remembrance, and some of his friends and/or students reported that he had been sharing the Epicurean Gospel with them. He was a very smart and sincere Epicurean, and thanks to his steady participation in our monthly zoom meetings, our Eikas had become a bilingual event. We’re going to miss him.

This is not the first time we lose an Epicurean in our circle. It leads us to philosophize about these questions: How do we properly mourn our Epicurean Friends? How can we remain considerate and respectful of family members who do not share our values, while also properly honoring the memory and the sincerely-held beliefs of our Friend? What funerary and/or memorial traditions will we implement? Principal Doctrine 40 reminds us that we should “not grieve the early death of the departed, as though it called for pity.” The practice recommended for remembering our fallen is known as “pleasant remembrance”. Initially, this may be difficult to achieve, but over time we should fill the hole in the world left by the departed with pleasant memories.

The celebration of Eikas on the Twentieth of every month was originally a memorial service honoring the Epicureans who have passed, and furnishes a great opportunity to pour our libations and remember him. Therefore, we did a private memorial toast to the memory of Jesús during our Eikas zoom meeting this weekend.

The Reemergence of the Roman Epicurean Burial Tradition

Maybe this may teach us something about the utility, in times like these, of having healthy ecumenical relations with Christians. When we learned of Jesús death, we also learned (from his brother) that his mother would probably not allow a non-Christian funeral. After all, she named him after Jesus Christ and is very Catholic (and devastated). One of the first things we are learning from this is that funerals are for the living. They help bring closure and comfort to the survivors. As Philodemus the Guide reminded us in his scroll On Death, the person who has died is not there, and does not benefit in any way whatsoever from funeral rites.

Therefore, we must consider that, for the Christian survivors, it is normal that they will want to remember him according to the rites and traditions of Christianity, and that for the Epicurean survivors, it is normal that we will want to remember him according to our own traditions. For this reason, after speaking to his brother, it was important for us to respect the Christian family’s ways of mourning, and we figured we would simply mourn and remember Jesús in our own way privately, but our friend Alan did share imagery inspired by the inscriptions that were used by Roman Epicureans on their tombs with some of the friends and students of Jesús, and some of them expressed that it would be a nice gesture to honor his sincerely-held Epicurean beliefs in some way. After all, his beliefs were a big part of what made him who he was, and part of why people loved him.

He was loved by many in his community. One of his friends said: “He will be immortal to us“.

So we were very pleasantly surprised when, after the funeral, we received an image of Jesús Guevara’s tomb. Someone who saw our post (perhaps one of his students?) had traced the image that our friend Alan had made to memorialize him over the fresh cement on his tomb. As you can see, it’s very crude, but it’s an authentic expression of the resurgence of Epicurean culture in the 21st Century in a part of the world that is deeply Catholic … and (we must acknowledge) it’s also a token of comfort, solidarity, and compassion on the part of people who are (in all likelihood) Christians, but who respect us enough and have enough compassion, kindness, and tolerance, that they prefer to honor the sincerely-held beliefs of our fallen rather than erase them, or sugar-coat them. For this, we are deeply thankful.

We only get one life, it’s very short, and sometimes we don’t get a chance to articulate our love for each other. If Jesús was still here, I’d just want to say thank you, I love you, and we will not forget you. I invite my readers to take the time to call your friends that you haven’t seen in a while–for (as the Havamal says) “a path that is neglected, slowly fills with weeds”. Peace and Safety.

Passages on the Soul, from Epicurus’ Epistle to Herodotus

The Letter to Herodotus is available here in its entirety. A commentary on the Epicurean Doctrine of the Psyche is here.

On the Occasion of the Birth of the Hegemon

For many years, we have had difficulty establishing with certainty the date of the birth of Epicurus. This is because the Attic calendar–whose months were mentioned in Epicurus’ Last Will and Testament–was not widely used. It was very much a local calendar, and was lunisolar, which adds great confusion for us who are used to our (solar) Gregorian calendar. The Birth of the Hegemon should naturally be our biggest holiday, our equivalent of Christmas, Mawlid, or Buddha Purnima, so at the SoFE we decided it was time to fix the date and to start developing traditions around the holiday of the Birth of the Hegemon.

The Lunisolar Calendar Discussion

We looked into various possible solutions. I considered adapting the Attic calendar into a simplified lunisolar calendar, abandoning the traditional and difficult-to-pronounce Greek month names and replacing them with the generic “First Moon”, “Second Moon”, etc. as names for our months. Some years would have twelve moons, and others would have thirteen. According to Wikipedia:

The year was meant to begin with the first sighting of the new moon after the summer solstice.

This would have been easy enough, as there are plenty of lunar calendars online we can consult. In his final will, Epicurus describes “the customary celebration of my birthday on the tenth day of Gamelion in each year“. Gamelion was the seventh month, which typically falls in January-February. But in 2020-2021, the summer solstice coincided with the new moon, and therefore the lunisolar months came very early. According to space.com, there was a new moon on June 21st of 2020, which is right at the solstice, so the solstice coincided with the New (Lunisolar) Year.

If we count seven new moons from there, we will see that space.com sets the seventh new moon of year 2,361 of the Age of Epicurus as December the 14th.

Therefore, the tenth day of the seventh moon in this simplified lunisolar calendar, counting from December 14th, would have been the 23rd day of December of 2020–which would have been the Birth of the Hegemon in our simplified lunisolar calendar. However, in the ancient Attic calendar, each month began with the “first sighting of the new moon”, which in this case was probably one or two nights after the New Moon of the 14th of December of 2020. We are beginning to see how difficult it is to plan ahead for this, which creates many disadvantages.

When we say that we are in the Year of Epicurus 2,361, we calculate that from 2020 (current year in the Gregorian calendar, which begins the lunisolar cycle of 2020-2021), plus 341 (Before Common Era, the year of his birth).

When I consulted with the other members of the SoFE concerning the problem of the date of this holiday, we considered the possibility of adopting a private lunisolar calendar merely with the intention of clearly calculating the Birth of the Hegemon every year, and we had to carry out hedonic calculus between this option and sticking to our familiar Gregorian calendar for the sake of simplicity, ease, and custom. The idea of fixing the Birth of the Hegemon to the Gregorian calendar prevailed. While I am not averse to the idea of a lunisolar calendar, the utility of this is limited, since the only major lunisolar holiday we celebrate is the Birth of the Hegemon.

Also, we customarily have zoom gatherings on the Twentieth of every month (or sometimes on the most convenient date close to the Twentieth), which makes it advantageous to merge the Birth of the Hegemon and the Twentieth on its given month, and also helps us to respect and to make the best use of each other’s time.

Therefore, the Society of Friends of Epicurus has officially set the holiday of the Birth of the Hegemon to be henceforward celebrated on the 20th of February every year.

Meaning of Hegemon

Epicurus was known as the Hegemon by his disciples. We pronounce this word according to the US conventional pronunciation found here. This word is related to “hegemony”, which translates as:

preponderant influence or authority over others. – Webster Dictionary

Other translations of the word are political, and do not apply to the ancient usage. This does not mean that he is infallible, or a prophet. He’s the founder of our School, our moral example due to his empirical thinking, clear and frank speech and clear thought, freedom from superstition and harmful beliefs, his pleasant disposition, his autarchy, his friendliness, and his kindness. He was the first Epicurean, the one whose name (and a portion of his identity) we make our own when we call ourselves Epicureans. The name Epicurus means “Friend” or “Ally”, and we know that friendship was holy to the first Epicureans, so in our Koinonia we strive to be true Friends and allies to each other.

We recognize only Epicurus of Samos as our Hegemon. His successors (diadochi) of direct lineage in the Garden of Athens were known as Scholarchs (Hermarchus, Polystratus, Zeno of Sidon, etc.) The Age of the Scholarchs lasted over five centuries. No one today can claim direct lineage, and so there are no Scholarchs today.

Under the Scholarchs, were the kath-hegetes (Guides)–people like Philodemus of Gadara, Philonides of Laodicea, Diogenes of Oenoanda, etc. In our SoFE lineage, this is the only office that we recognize as still potentially existing today.

How to Celebrate the Birth of the Hegemon

We will allow the Birth of the Hegemon to organically evolve as a holiday, but initially our tradition will consist of remembering some of the key events in the biography and some of the key features of the character of Epicurus of Samos through poetry, declamation, and other art forms. We encourage all followers of Epicurus to write their own poems and statements in memory of the Hegemon for this day and to publish them on social media.

Today, we Hail the Hegemon and we invite all followers of Epicurean philosophy to learn about, toast, celebrate, and remember Epicurus in your own way. We wish you a pleasant Hegemon Day. Peace and Safety!

Alan’s Contribution:

In response to your request to write something for the Birth of the Hegemon, I have adapted the Prayer of St. Francis to Epicureanism, with feedback from Jordan:

“Master, let me freely choose to be an instrument of divine pleasure:
where there is fear, let me have courage;
where there is discomfort, let me take comfort;
where there is injury, let me remain just;
where there is confusion, let me be clear:
where there is darkness, let me show the light of your true philosophy.

O Wise Master, you have taught me that I may not so much seek
to be remembered as to remember,
to be praised as to praise,
to be thanked as to be thankful.
to be learned as to learn,
to be honored as to honor,
to be desirous of what I do not have as to remember what I already have.

For it is in expressing gratitude to you that we are blessed,
it is in graciousness that we are graced,
it is in eliminating pain that we find true pleasure,
it is in seeking friendship that we find immortal goodness,
And it is in dying that we disperse back to Nature.

Eireni kai asphalia/pax et securitas/peace and safety”

This is by Matt:

Hear these words O children of Nature’s swerve.
Let us rejoice in the freedom we desperately deserve.
Of prudent wisdom long obscured by shame.
Professed by Epicurus of noble fame.
Lucretius penned in days of old.
Across the gap of time, a truth so bold.
Arise the days of hedonic measure.
Restoring the truth of humankind’s pleasure.
Dispel the fears of death’s illusion.
Release humankind from all confusion.
Again I say, O children of Nature’s swerve.
Be frank in speech and keep your nerve.
Be ready now to strike your blow.
For Epicurus, his Garden and all who know.
The days shall come when the world will extol.
That pleasurable living was indeed the goal.

Practicing Offa: Epicurean Saying 41

One must laugh and philosophize and tend to one’s home life and use one’s other goods, and always recount the pronouncements of true philosophy. – Epicurean Saying 41

γελᾶν ἅμα δεῖ καὶ φιλοσοφεῖν καὶ οἰκονομεῖν καὶ τοῖς λοιποῖς οἰκειώμασι χρῆσθαι καὶ μηδαμῇ λήγειν τὰς ἐκ τῆς ὀρθῆς φιλοσοφίας φωνὰς ἀφιέντας.

ES 41 contains instructions for an active, engaged way of practicing Epicurean philosophy. The purpose of this essay is to place this practice before our eyes so that we may better understand what it consists of.

As for the translation of this passage, οἰκονομεῖν (oikonomein, or governing the house, from nomein, which relates to law / nomos, and oikos, which relates to home; it relates to economics and in general to managing one’s household); μηδαμῇ λήγειν (medamé légein) translates as “never ceasing”; ὀρθῆς (órthés, the suffix of “orthodox”) means “right” or “correct”, and paired here with φιλοσοφίας (filosofías) it refers to the right philosophy; φωνὰς (fonás) refers to voices or utterances, and shares semantic roots with words like “telephone”; and finally ἀφιέντας (áfiéntas) has to do with emitting, or sending out in all directions. I started using the acronym offa to refer to “órthés filosofías fonás áfiéntas” when I first realized this passage referred to a way of practicing Epicurean philosophy that deserved further exploration, and I now refer to the act itself of cheerful repetition of the Doctrines while engaged in other activities as offa practice. Notice that fonás áfiéntas implies an out-loud repetition, not a silent or inward, meditative repetition. Offa is a cheerful, active, assertive practice.

So the image we get from this passage is of a votary of Epicurean philosophy who is practicing memorization and repetition while managing his household and business, all the while laughing and enjoying himself. Laughter is, in fact, the first requisite of the practice. If we’re not enjoying ourselves, we’re not doing it right. Also, this particular practice is carried out in the midst of our ordinary activities.

This practice was likely established during the generations after the foundation of Epicurean philosophy. We know this because it’s found in the Epicurean Sayings (sometimes still known as the Vatican Sayings), and we know that this collection was published after the death of the Hegemon because it mentions Epicurus in the third person in ES 36, praising his gentleness and autarchy. We also know that Epicurus himself encouraged people to repeat and memorize outlines of his teachings, and we know that repetition and memorization are universally considered the most prevalent and well-known practices among Epicurean disciples, but we do not know of any specific methods or contexts for chanting, repeating, or memorizing, other than the description we find in ES 41.

This is not to say that we are not to have a shrine before which we memorize and repeat: that is another way of practicing. But in the case of offa / ES 41, the idea is that we are to repeat out loud in every direction (fonás afientas) whatever Epicurean Doctrines we’re in the process of learning that day, or that week, or that month. Each practitioner may have or develop his or her own way of happily weaving the Doctrines into their casual self-expression.

Singing while working can be disruptive to our co-workers in some environments. If this is the case, then use prudence and only practice when you’re not generating annoyances for others. But in most cases, singing while engaging in other activities generally raises our spirits. I often sing while I shower, as my grandfather did (very happily, and his happiness was contagious).

Singing while working–studies suggest–is good for your happiness and productivity. One of my previous employers (in a call center) used to always have pop music playing in the background in order to lift our moods (and I think it mostly worked). Many cultures and tribes have particular songs that they use while making bread, pounding yam, gathering foods, or cooking. In this way, unavoidable labor that might otherwise feel harsh is softened and made more enjoyable.

There have been many questions (which sometimes come off as accusations, when coming from enemies of our School) concerning what practices the Epicureans actually engage in. It seems like, to some people, studying and reading philosophy is not enough to be considered a “practice” of philosophy. This is the reason why I wrote an essay introducing meleta some time ago, and why I’m discussing offa now. To some people, praxis requires either meditative or contemplative practices, or chanting, or rituals. In truth, KD-Praxis (Practice of the Kyriai Doxai, or Principal Doctrines) may include all of the above. In my book Tending the Epicurean Garden, I dedicated a whole chapter to how to develop your hedonic regimen, and another one to the science of contemplation, both of which cited relevant scientific studies.

Offa is an engaged way of practicing the Doctrines. We may become a votary of Epicurean Saying 41 by vowing to repeat a particular Doctrine that we are trying to memorize, by repeating it frequently in song or chant for a day, or for a week, or for a weekend, or for a month. In this way, we memorize and become experts in the Doctrine we choose to repeat. For instance, I’ve often repeated in recent months the second part of PD 3, and it has yielded many great insights:

Whenever and wherever
Pleasure is present
there is neither pain in the flesh
nor anxiety in the mind.

Choosing a short, easy passage such as this one allows us to cultivate our attention, to focus only on that passage. Sometimes when we chant rhythmically, we may enter into a trance. This can be quite enjoyable, and benefits specific parts of the brain (see Note 1), inducing the emission of delta waves. Delta waves have a role in sleep, and–accoding to this essay–“delta wave activity has also been purported to aid in the formation of declarative and explicit memory formation“. Therefore, offa (and other forms of repetition or chanting) may have a role in the type of neuroplasticity that Epicurus posited as part of his materialist conception of moral development.

Philodemus of Gadara argued that the medicine of the Doctrines is in the words, and–while music and rhythm are not themselves without utility–sincere Epicurean practitioners should pay attention to their (subconscious or conscious) reactions, associations, or any other insight that emerges from their minds while chanting, and be aware of them. I have found that mindful repetition often discloses connections with other teachings in our minds, or other pragmatic repercussions of the Doctrine, and in this way it aids in the acquisition of full cognitive assimilation of the Doctrine. For instance, “Death is nothing to us” (PD 2) says (implicitly) that life, to us, is sentience, not only that death is non-sentience. We can gain insight from the things the Doctrines do not say, but imply, in addition to the things that the Doctrines say.

We do not know how the ancient Epicureans practice repetition and memorization, only that they did. We also do not speak their languages. Therefore, modern Epicureans would have to develop our own authentic ways of practicing in our native languages. For all these reasons, I think we should pay close attention to the words in ES 41, and carry out experiments while finding ways to incorporating offa into our Epicurean practice.

Note 1:

In my book, I cite a study by Marian Diamond that shows that chanting lowers blood pressure and slows the heart rate, generating a state of relaxation. However, the studies on chanting, and of meditation in general, have advanced a bit. This study shows that religious chanting affects a different part of the brain than prayer and various kinds of meditation, and that it has its own psychotherapeutic benefits. This study reveals that chanting help the brain to emit delta waves and affects the posterior cingulate cortex, which has many functions. This other study–specifically on Vedic chanting–shows that it helps in the treatment of anxiety and induces relaxation. This other study says:

prayer/religious practices may have cross-cultural universality in emotion regulation. This study shows for the first time that Buddhist chanting, or in a broader sense, repetition of religious prayers will not modulate brain responses to negative stimuli during the early perceptual stage, but only during the late-stage emotional/cognitive processing.

These studies are useful, but since the canon is empirical and based on enargeia (immediate experience), with repetition and memorization, the proof is in the pudding, and we will only learn what works for us once we experiment with it.

The Four Foods Epicurus Enjoyed

To the Epicureans, the Twentieth of every month is a time for friends and for feasting. There are no traditional recipes (yet) for modern Twentieth celebrations. We encourage individuals to develop their own culinary traditions around the Twentieth, but a generally good guideline is to follow the Mediterranean diet, which has been declared by UNESCO an “intangible heritage” of all of humanity. Here are some guidelines for how to incorporate the Mediterranean diet into our cuisine. Epicurus and his companions must have enjoyed most of the foods that were part of the Mediterranean diet in his day, but there are four foods that are mentioned in the chronicles that we know with certainty they enjoyed.

Water

When guests walked into the Garden, Seneca reports that they were welcomed with bread and water. This is typically treated as a testament in favor of a simple lifestyle. But let’s apply the canon to this: what evidence do we have for the usefulness of drinking plain water? I can speak for myself. Drinking one large glass of very cold water, first thing in the morning, is extremely refreshing and energizing. Not Gatorade. Not Yerba maté (as much as I love it): just plain water. Citing multiple studies, this article on the importance of hydration by Healthline says that lack of hydration

can lead to altered body temperature control, reduced motivation, and increased fatigue. It can also make exercise feel much more difficult, both physically and mentally … can impair many aspects of brain function … impaired both mood and concentration. It also increased the frequency of headaches. … fluid loss of 1.6% was detrimental to working memory and increased feelings of anxiety and fatigue.

Notice that both physical stamina and mental health were affected by lack of proper hydration, according to the studies cited. It’s estimated that about 60 % of our body is made up of water. It also helps to avoid constipation and hangovers.

So perhaps offering water to everyone at the Garden was a way to ensure that not only did people have access to at least one non-alcoholic beverage, but also that people remained hydrated and healthy.

Bread

Bread is so common that, in the Bible, it’s a euphemism for food. Many ancient mystery religions either involved “barley cake” (which was enjoyed at Eleusis) or worshiped gods who made themselves useful to humanity in the form of communion bread (Orpheus, Osiris, Dionysus), and the Christian eucharist is a modern version of this belief and practice. To us Epicureans, bread is simply a particular combination of atoms and void, but it was also enjoyed by everyone who was welcomed in the Garden, and so we can imagine that the first Gardens would have had their bread recipes and traditions.

I grew up eating soft, still-warm French bread, a tradition that the French brought to Puerto Rico and which evolved into two forms of French bread that we call “pan criollo” (Creole bread) or sometimes “pan sobao” (kneaded bread): one is a hard, long loaf of bread (has a harder exterior) and the other looks similar but is soft bread, which is sweeter and has no hard exterior. This last one was by far always my favorite, eaten warm with requesón (soft cheese) or Gouda cheese, or in a sandwich. Every region has its own local variety of bread made with local yeast and local ingredients, which is why I have not been able to find this type of bread in all my years in Chicago.

The art and history of bread-making (tied to the history of beer, which is really liquid bread) is fascinating, and I’ve had many adventures over the years with both beer-brewing–including gluten-free quinoa beer, which was my best and healthiest homemade beer ever–and bread-making at home. I’ve made naan bread, cricket bread, and yuca bread (or tortillas) with yoghurt, and also made pizza, which is just bread with cheese and a sauce and other ingredients.

Ancient Greeks had a huge variety of breads, and some were made specifically for some holiday or religious occasion–like they still do for Easter and Christmas. When the Vesuvian eruption happened in the year 79, there was a baker who left his bread in the oven in order to escape the cataclysm. Almost 1,900 years later, this bread (which would have likely been similar to the bread that was enjoyed by the Epicurean Guide Philodemus of Gadara and his associates) was re-discovered in the remains of Herculaneum. This video shows us how to make ancient Herculaneum bread. It was likely enjoyed with olive oil.

Of course, we do not have to try to replicate the ancient way of making bread, although it would be a fun experiment. Bread can be made from a wide variety of roots and grains. It’s truly one of the most universal foods, and fun to make (even if it takes patience), particularly if the finished product is tasty and becomes a source of pride. Perhaps in the future some Epicurean communities will celebrate the Twentieth by developing their own bread-making traditions.

If bread was made from scratch on the Twentieth in the Gardens, it’s possible that the preparations for the holiday started the day prior to the Twentieth, where bakers would have made sure to have a sourdough starter for the next day. They may also have fermented grapes or other fruits overnight together with a portion from a previous batch of bread, or used beer-foam or beer as a starter. If there were children in the Garden, this would have been a great educational experiment in chemistry for them, as well as in the culinary arts. They could have provided additional hands for kneading.

Cheese

According to this page in celebration of Greek gastronomy,

Greek cheeses are a plenty. I am almost certain that Greece consumes more cheese than any other nation. Cheese is such a rich part of Greece’s history; the ancient Greeks even designated a god to this wonderful food.

Aristaios (Αρισταιος), the son of Apollo, was the god that brought Cheese making (and honey, olive growing, medicinal herbs) to ancient Greece. No wonder his name is a derivative of the Greek word “aristos,” meaning “most useful.”

Notice that the god was associated with medicinal herbs and honey (which also has antibacterial properties), and we will begin to understand how, in the Mediterranean diet–as Hippocrates said–we let food be our medicine and medicine be our food. There is no boundary between the culinary and the medicinal. In order to understand why Epicurus loved his cheese so much, it may help to understand the history of cheese-making in Ancient Greece. According to this webpage on the history of Greek cheese,

The single most distinguishing characteristic of Greek cheese is that most of it is made with sheep’s milk, goat’s milk, or a combination of the two. Cow’s milk cheeses exist but only a handful of Greek islands.

The page also explains that Greek cheeses went well beyond feta and were incredibly varied (including “cheeses that are sun-dried; aged in lees; and those that are preserved in olive oil“, pastries that incorporated cheese, and “roasted cheesecakes“), and made a great offering to the gods. It also says:

Cheese played a role, not only as a staple, but also as a luxury item in ancient Greek gastronomy.

… which reminds us of the autarchy (self-sufficiency) portion of Epicurus’ Letter to Menoeceus where Epicurus explains that, in order to better enjoy the occasional luxury, it’s good to save those luxuries for special occasions.

We regard autarchy as a great good, not so as in all cases to use little, but so as to be contented with little if we have not much, being honestly persuaded that they have the sweetest enjoyment of luxury who stand least in need of it, and that whatever is natural is easily procured and only the vain and worthless hard to win. Plain fare gives as much pleasure as a costly diet, when one the pain of want has been removed, while bread and water confer the highest possible pleasure when they are brought to hungry lips. To habituate oneself, therefore, to a simple and inexpensive diet supplies al that is needful for health, and enables a person to meet the necessary requirements of life without shrinking and it places us in a better condition when we approach at intervals a costly fare and renders us fearless of fortune.

Hence, when Epicurus told one of his friends in a letter:

Send me a pot of cheese, that I may feast.

it is understood that this was not an everyday luxury for Epicurus. Each island and region of Greece made its own cheese varieties, so this friend probably brought a luxury (or rare, local) item from afar, from wherever he was from or from wherever he visited.

Since we use the canon, let us look also at the science behind cheese, and how it relates to happiness. Fermented foods in general (like cheese and yoghurt) are good for keeping a healthy balance of gut bacteria. Gut flora has been tied to mood regulation / mood disorders. Only recently have scientists been able to identify and isolate the specific bacteria in cheese and other products that aid with happiness, digestion, and mood regulation. According to this essay,

Not all cheeses contain live bacteria, as they can be killed off during the making process but those that pack the biggest probiotic punch include brie, cheddar, cottage cheese, edam, feta, roquefort and stilton.

The gut needs a variety of bacteria, which is why fermented foods do not need to be eaten daily, or even frequently. Epicurus’ choice of enjoying cheese only on occasion shows that he had a healthy, intuitive approach to listening to his belly.

Wine

In the chronicles, we learn that Epicurus had casual discussions with Polyaenus about the nature of the particles that were in the wine that they were casually drinking. At the time of his death, Epicurus also had a bit of wine mixed with water in order to help him manage his pain. Wine is tied to Dionysus–whose cult, according to anthropologists, include rich and poor, men and women, and encouraged temporary liberation from the restrictions of cultural conventions through drunkenness.

However, most wine consumption was not for the sake of drunken stupor. That was only on special occasions. Typically, Greeks mixed wine with water so that it was more like a grape juice. According to Lemon & Olives,

The oldest Greek wine (2,000 years old) served today is the famous white wine, Retsina. The very same wine that the ancient Greeks drank can be tasted today. To be honest, it kind of taste like a pine tree. The reason for the pine taste was do to the ancients and their method of sealing wine barrels with pine resin to keep air out. It is good but an acquired taste. Best served cold with sharp cheeses.

As for the health benefits of wine, so long as it’s not consumed in excess: we know that the benefits are similar to those of grapes (and raisins), and berries, which have a very high anti-oxidant value. This helps to fight cancer and other degenerative diseases, and helps to slow aging and the general deterioration of the body.

If our readers develop particular culinary traditions for the Twentieth, please let us know via email or in our FaceBook group. We’d love to document the emergence of these traditions.

Also, a big thank you to my supporters on Patreon and to those who support us via our new shop. If you enjoy our content, feel free to support either with a one-time donation, or by subscribing.

On the Evolution of Language

The following is a commentary on the essay titled New Evidence for the Epicurean Theory of the Origin of Language: Philodemus, On Poems V, by Jacob Mackey and Epicurus, On nature, Book 28 by David N Sedley.

As we have seen before, the founders of Epicurean philosophy were deeply concerned with the role that language plays in our apprehension of the nature of things. The canonical faculty of prolepsis (anticipations) is tied to the use of language, and its place in the canon implies that language can be a shortcut to recalling things that were at one point empirically available to our other faculties. But language conventions can betray prolepsis, sometimes purposefully, as we see in the case of metaphors.

We are not necessarily against poetry. Philodemus says that poetry gives pleasure through excellence of diction and content. We may say that “mountains vomit clay into rivers”, and by context most people will know that we are speaking metaphorically. But we must never forget the utility of words in their context. This expression is fine when we speak poetically, but in his Epistle to Herodotus, Epicurus starts by saying that words are only useful if their clear meaning is kept in mind.

Epicurus clashed with Dialectitians from Megara. Among them, Diodorus Cronus (who was an extreme conventionalist), said that language isn’t natural. From these facts, we can imagine that Epicurus was arguing against them that language (and other phenomena) do exist and are natural.

Epicurus’ views concerning language evolved. He had begun adopting Metrodorus’ process of using conventional words (rather than the pedantic practice of some philosophers, who are very particular about their choice of obscure language) by the time he wrote On Nature 28:

“I now see, as I did not then, the particular difficulties concerning this class, of having correct names for individual things … as you (Metro) also used in those days to assign names without adapting certain conventional usages, so that you should not make plain the principle that by assigning any name one expresses an opinion, and see and reflect upon the indiscriminate treatment of words and objects.”

We see a distrust of words, and we see their preoccupation with avoiding the addition of opinion when we express ourselves, and a recognition of the great difficulty of this in our choice of words. We know that Lucretius mentions “opinion” as a category that does not belong in the canon. The argument here is that to name something is to express an opinion, which may be true or false. So the addition of opinion is a sign that a definition of a word is non-canonical, has no empirical basis, and is not based on true prolepsis.

In addition to these concerns, Epicurean anthropology recognizes three stages of the evolution of language.

First Stage: Nature teaches words

The founders believed that initially, language started by ananke (necessity) as a reaction to external stimuli. This view is held today by people like linguist Noam Chomsky, who has argued that there exists in the human brain an “inborn universal grammar”. But the ancients didn’t have a scientific field of linguistics. They only had empirical attestations from nature. They likely observed the role that certain calls have in certain communities of monkeys (if they came across them in their travels) or birds, who use calls to warn each other about the presence of predators, for mating, for warning enemies who enter their territory, and for other rudimentary uses. Award-winning studies of human reaction to the noise made by nails on a chalk board seem to indicate that this may an ancestral vestige of primate warning calls:

The authors hypothesized that it was due to predation early in human evolution; the sound bore some resemblances to the alarm call of macaque monkeys, or it may have been similar to the call of some predator. This research won one of the authors, Randolph Blake, an Ig Nobel Prize in 2006.

Second Stage: Reason develops language

So, the initial sounds and grunts made by our ancestors were wild, that is, invented by nature. Later, as humans became civilized, the founders argue that language was developed further by logismos (reason), which refined the first words. Since this stage is distinct from the third stage, I imagine that this stage did not involve an intellectual class, but emerged naturally from the intelligence of average language-users and from the pragmatic necessities of their interactions with each other and their environment.

Third Stage: Reason adds new discoveries

It’s in this final stage that the philosophers of the first Garden believed to be operating when they engaged in the practice of reassigning names. This is a practice that Confucian philosophers have also, interestingly, engaged in for the sake of clarity. It’s possible that this is a widespread practice among the intellectual classes of many cultures, and responds to real, universal problems of sophisticated human communication.

It’s also here that poets get to work on inventing novel ways of utilizing words, and sometimes these innovations end up having great utility, while at other times this creates confusion and obscures speech for the entire community.

Epicurus generally doubts the utility of definitions and insists that people use words as they are used commonly–and yet sometimes (as in Principal Doctrine 1, which uses the definition of the word “gods” rather than the word itself) it’s clear that he trusts the definition more than the word, because the word has been so corrupted by the culture that it’s best to clearly define it in conversation.

To the first Epicureans, the legitimate practice of word-coining was born from utility, rather than for aesthetics. When I wrote Tending the Epicurean Garden, my editor insisted that I avoid using Greek terms that no one was familiar with, and this has been a recurrent problem in the teaching mission of the Society of Friends of Epicurus, and in many of my projects of content-creation for many outlets. Rather than kinetic and katastematic, I had to refer to dynamic and abiding pleasure. Many emerging fields of scientific inquiry, new inventions, and modern media and technology, have also produced the need for many new words. This process of word-coining will never end, for as long as there is human civilization.

Further Reading:
Against the use of empty words

PD 1: On the Utility of the Epicurean Gods

That which is blissful and immortal has no troubles itself, nor does it cause trouble for others, so that it is not affected by anger or gratitude (for all such things come about through weakness). – Principal Doctrine One

Epicurus applied epilogismos (empirical thinking) to all things, even the gods. In thinking empirically about the gods, he specifically considered their role as witnesses to our oaths–which is why Philodemus equates piety with justice in his scroll On Piety–, Epicurus saw how oath-breakers are treated by the community, so that the gods seem to embody the collective memory, traditions, choices and avoidances, and norms of the tribe. Gods (or rather the social group, through invocation and use of its gods) have the “power” to bring specific curses and blessings, which may at times be specified in the social contract of the community. I should clarify that this is not a supernatural power, but rather a social function.

For instance, if you vow by Athena to be loyal to a friend, and then you turn around and betray your friend, many sincere worshipers of Athena will consider you cursed because you will have blasphemed Athena. They may have, as a community, ways of dealing with oath-breakers that are unpleasant, as a way of discouraging oath-breaking. We see in many modern religious communities that oath-breakers and apostates are often banned from their Mormon, Muslims, or other religious communities. As central symbols of tribes and communities, we see that the gods function as their unifying symbols that add coherence and stability to communities.

The Letter to Menoeceus says that gods make us feel “familiar” to them as a result of sharing similar virtues as they have. This “filial” (familiar) model of Epicurean piety has been distinguished from the “servile” model of vulgar piety that we see elsewhere.

We may view the gods and the practices concerning them as instances of (individual or communal) self-expression and reminders of our highest values.

The Epicurean gods also invite us to ask what kinds of sentient beings would be WORTHY of everlasting happiness, of immortal bliss, and also of immortality–which is a quite different question from the ontological station of the gods.

Therefore the Doctrine of Epicurus concerning the gods must be studied in terms of its utility so that, even if we do away with the Epicurean gods, we still have a clear grasp of their utility in their original context, and we may seek alternate ways to fulfil that same utility and possibly experiment with a non-theistic religiosity. I have speculated that this religiosity can perhaps focus its piety on the healing words of true philosophy, rather than on the gods.

A non-theistic Epicurean religiosity is a worthwhile project, however, a part of me still wonders if, by neglecting the moral tasks posed by the Epicurean gods, we’d be neglecting crucial exercises for the soul’s “muscles”, and whether we harm our moral development by ignoring the utility of the gods.

The Imaginary Friends Argument

Imaginary friends are often cited as a metaphor by atheists who wish to ridicule vulgar religiosity, but the “imaginary friends” metaphor actually may yield important insights concerning religiosity and should be treated as a legitimate ethical and anthropological argument.

Children have imaginary friends, which are sort of familiar spirits to them, and this is considered a normal part of childhood. This is probably because they are developing social faculties. I imagine it’s like a computer that has the program to update itself: the child’s brain is learning and processing for the first time complex social interactions, which give him skills necessary for adult life. The child must learn communication skills, and even subtle social cues. Perhaps imagining friends helps the brain to learn and practice these social skills in the initial stages of social development.

The Utility of Piety

Honoring a sage is itself a great benefit to the one who honors – Vatican Saying 32

This issue of the utility of piety is a separate question from the nature of the gods, even if related. But in what way do we benefit when we honor or respect something? Epicurus said piety had psycho-somatic effects: that it may help us to cultivate pleasant dispositions in the body and mind.

Piety can make us feel happy, attached to something wholesome and familiar, and can help us feel healthy and mentally strong.

Piety can also feel like a great peace, because we are being just whenever we honor our covenants of loyalty, friendship, or filial love, and one is genuinely happy when one hears the name of a loved one, and is reminded of that love. This sweetens life, is pleasant, memorable, and makes us happy.

Piety, if sincere, feels like reverence, which ennobles if the thing revered is worthy. When such piety feels like familiarity, filial, we may say that we share part of our (mental and bodily) identity with the thing revered, otherwise it would not feel familiar. The Epicurean Doctrines may also gain familiarity through acquaintance, repetition, and memorization.

When we observe the psycho-somatic effects of piety in us, we have clear, direct insight about its benefits, which justifies “faith” not in gods or in anything external to ourselves, but in the memorized Doctrines and their power and medicine in our soul.

Living Like Immortals

In the third book of De Rerum Natura, Lucretius praised the words of Epicurus saying: “like bees, we sip their nectar”–as if from flowers in a meadow–and that they’re “golden, ever worthy of immortal life”. In this way, he compared the Doctrines to ambrosia–the nectar of immortality.

Lucretius was conveying that the Aurea Dicta (the “golden words” of true philosophy) help us to live like immortals, and to feel as if we are surrounded by immortal goods. This is because these words point to all the things that make life worth living, and so the diligent study of the Aurea Dicta is the most advantageous activity for our happiness. But bees drink nectar in order to make honey: the idea of imbibing Epicurus’ words is to produce sweetness, pleasure.

Epicurus would not talk about living like immortals, as he did in his Epistle to Menoeceus, if he had not first placed before the eyes of his disciple, in clear detail, just what it means to live like an immortal.

Living like an immortal implies various things. Epicurus describes the gods as indestructible and forever happy. These are the only two religious taboos he gave us. He said we may believe anything about the gods so long as we do not blaspheme their immortality and their constantly blissful state of sentience. We are left to fill in the blanks.

This must mean that the gods are envisioned as sentient beings, since only such beings are able to experience constant pleasures. Living like an immortal implies that the pleasures that we experience are all of a higher nature, that we become resilient, indestructible, and transcendentally happy. Living like gods also implies an art of living, a methodology for living, a lifestyle, or a cultural expression which is modeled by our Epicurean narratives about the gods.

It can be dangerous to remain unaware of what gods, guiding values, and beliefs we have set for ourselves. Unanalyzed praise can sometimes degrade a soul, sinking it in unwholesome association. Epicurus invites us to consciously create our values in this manner, and to observe the pragmatic results of this ethical exercise in our own bodies and minds

The Future Self

This task may remind some of Nietzsche’s Overman. This is because the utility of the gods and the utility of our narratives about our own future are, in some ways, similar.

Just as we feel rooted in our past when we revere our ancestors, we also anchor our selves in the future when we revere our gods. There is a progression in time between these two cosmological imaginaries: the one (usually) below our feet in the graves of our ancestors where we are rooted like trees, and the one (usually) in the heavens towards which our instincts of freedom and creation inspire us to advance and evolve. Perhaps we subconsciously intuit our evolutionary advance from a less-evolved past to a more-evolved future, and this finds expression in these two forms of piety? We naturally (and perhaps subconsciously) seek to imitate and to become like the things we deify or idealize. The future Self has to be conceived and imagined so clearly, that it feels within reach. Thinking about our future self is, in itself, ethically useful if done right.

While you are on the road, try to make the later part better than the earlier part; and be equally happy when you reach the end. – Vatican Saying 48

The Letter to Menoeceus teaches that the future is partly ours and partly not ours. This means that we have causal responsibility for a portion of our destiny, of our future self. Concerning what this portion entails is a matter of great importance for our happiness and for our moral development. The favors we do to our future self give us hope in our future pleasure, stability, and confident expectation that we will easily secure our needs.

Exercise: Envision Your Gods

If we were to set up an existential task, or “a homework”, related to Principal Doctrine 1, it would be to place before our eyes: to clearly imagine, in detail, the lifestyle of the gods. This is a visualization exercise–which could be done in the form of journaling, if we are not very good visual thinkers.

I recently shared the Isle of the Blessed passage from Lucian’s comedy True Story. Since it depicts a paradise of pleasure, one worthy of Epicurus himself (whom Lucretius makes a resident there), the Isle of the Blessed might be a good example of a type of exercise similar to envisioning the gods, that we may draw inspiration from.

Since the Epicurean gods of the realist interpretation are what today would be considered extraterrestrial super-evolved animals, some of our readers may wish to draw inspiration from the emergent field of astro-biology. I have speculated that any creature that feels perfectly safe and invulnerable (as the gods do) would have to evolve in an ecosystem that has an extremely high level of symbiosis (that is, cooperation rather than competition) between creatures.

“Sculpting” our gods (or “imagined persons” if we are non-realist about them) in our minds, and putting before our eyes their activities, pastimes, narratives, opulences, pleasures, qualities, values, and attributes may serve as a good point of reference to help us to sculpt our own characters and lifestyles. In this way, we gain a clear conception in our minds of how to live a godlike lifestyle.

Envisioning the gods is an exercise in ethical self-creation, and in character-building. It’s a reflection on the quality of life that the highest form of sentient being in the cosmos would have. How would we live if we were to imitate their godly lifestyle? That is part of the utility of the Epicurean gods.

Finally, I wish to stress that this exercise is useful and has educational value even if we believe that our gods are imaginary: they can still be our lifestyle-models, who point us in the direction of the healthiest and happiest way of living.

The usefulness of this exercise is increased if we include concrete details concerning the aromas, tastes, architecture, fashion, and mental and emotional states of our gods. This is what we mean by “placing before the eyes”–a practice used by the Epicurean Guide Philodemus, and by Epicurus himself in his Letter to Menoeceus. In this way, we move from the abstract to the concrete, from the Platonic realm to the real and tangible world.

Isle of the Blessed

The following is the “Isle of the Blessed” portion of Lucian’s True Story, which is available in its entirety at Gutenberg.org. True Story has continued relevance to our generation because it is a parody and commentary on “fake news”, on popular resistance against empirical thinking, and on people’s frequent inability to discern truth from falsehood.

The King of the Isle, Rhadamanthys, was believed to be the Underworld judge of the souls from the East (due to being famed for his inflexible integrity), and Lucian was making an ethnic joke here concerning his own eastern/Syrian origins. Although this work is a comedy, it’s not without educational value. In it, Lucian places before our eyes an Epicurean paradise, complete with a city of Seven Gates and the Elysian fields.

Within a while after many islands appeared, and near unto them, upon our left hand, stood Phello, the place whereunto they were travelling, which was a city seated upon a mighty great and round cork. Further off, and more towards the right hand, we saw five other islands, large and mountainous, in which much fire was burning; but directly before us was a spacious flat island, distant from us not above five hundred furlongs: and approaching somewhat near unto it, a wonderful fragrant air breathed upon us, of a most sweet and delicate smell, such as Herodotus, the story-writer, saith ariseth out of Arabia the happy, consisting of a mixture of roses, daffodils, gillyflowers, lilies, violets, myrtles, bays, and blossoms of vines: such a dainty odoriferous savour was conveyed unto us.

Being delighted with this smell, and hoping for better fortunes after our long labours, we got within a little of the isle, in which we found many havens on every side, not subject to overflowing, and yet of great capacity, and rivers of clear water emptying themselves easily into the sea, with meadows and herbs and musical birds, some singing upon the shore, and many upon the branches of trees, a still and gentle air compassing the whole country. When pleasant blasts gently stirred the woods the motion of the branches made a continual delightsome melody, like the sound of wind instruments in a solitary place: a kind of clamour also was heard mixed with it, yet not tumultuous nor offensive, but like the noise of a banquet, when some do play on wind instruments, some commend the music, and some with their hands applaud the pipe, or the harp. All which yielded us so great content that we boldly entered the haven, made fast our ship and landed, leaving in her only Scintharus and two more of our companions behind us. Passing along through a sweet meadow we met with the guards that used to sail about the island, who took us and bound us with garlands of roses (which are the strictest bands they have), to be carried to their governor: from them we heard, as we were upon the way, that it was the island of those that are called blessed, and that Rhadamanthus was governor there, to whom we were brought and placed the fourth in order of them that were to be judged.

The first trial was about Ajax, the son of Telamon, whether he were a meet man to be admitted into the society of the Heroes or not: the objections against him were his madness and the killing of himself: and after long pleading to and fro, Rhadamanthus gave this sentence, that for the present he should be put to Hippocrates, the physician of Cos, to be purged with helleborus, and upon the recovery of his wits to have admittance.

The second was a controversy of love, Theseus and Menelaus contending which had the better right to Helen; but Rh ad am an thus gave judgment on Menelaus’ side, in respect of the manifold labours and perils he had incurred for that marriage’ sake, whereas Theseus had wives enough beside to live withal—as the Amazon, and the daughters of Minos. The third was a question of precedency between Alexander, the son of Philip, and Hannibal, the Carthaginian, in which Alexander was preferred, and his throne placed next to the elder Cyrus the Persian.

In the fourth place we appeared, and he demanded of us what reason we had, being living men, to take land in that sacred country, and we told him all our adventures in order as they befell us: then he commanded us to stand aside, and considering upon it a great while, in the end proposed it to the benchers, which were many, and among them Aristides the Athenian, surnamed the Just: and when he was provided what sentence to deliver, he said that for our busy curiosity and needless travels we should be accountable after our death; but for the present we should have a time limited for our abode, during which we should feast with the Heroes and then depart, prefixing us seven months’ liberty to conclude our tarriance, and no more. Then our garlands fell off from us of themselves, and we were set loose and led into the city to feast with the blessed.

The city was all of gold, compassed with a wall made of the precious stone smaragdus, which had seven gates, every one cut out of a whole piece of timber of cinnamon-tree: the pavement of the city and all the ground within the walls was ivory: the temples of all the gods are built of beryl, with large altars made all of one whole amethyst, upon which they offer their sacrifices: about the city runneth a river of most excellent sweet ointment, in breadth an hundred cubits of the larger measure, and so deep that a man may swim in it with ease. For their baths they have great houses of glass, which they warm with cinnamon: and their bathing-tubs are filled with warm dew instead of water. Their only garments are cobwebs of purple colour; neither have they any bodies, but are intactile and without flesh, a mere shape and presentation only: and being thus bodiless, they yet stand, and are moved, are intelligent, and can speak: and their naked soul seemeth to wander up and down in a corporal likeness: for if a man touch them not he cannot say otherwise, but that they have bodies, altogether like shadows standing upright, and not, as they are, of a dark colour. No man waxeth any older there than he was before, but of what age he comes thither, so he continues. Neither is there any night with them, nor indeed clear day: but like the twilight towards morning before the sun be up, such a kind of light do they live in. They know but one season of the year which is the spring, and feel no other wind but Zephyrus. The region flourisheth with all sorts of flowers, and with all pleasing plants fit for shade: their vines bear fruit twelve times a year, every month once: their pomegranate-trees, their apple-trees, and their other fruit, they say, bear thirteen times in the year, for in the month called Minous they bear twice. Instead of wheat their ears bear them loaves of bread ready baked, like unto mushrooms. About the city are three hundred three-score and five wells of water, and as many of honey, and five hundred of sweet ointment, for they are less than the other. They have seven rivers of milk and eight of wine.

They keep their feast without the city in a field called Elysium, which is a most pleasant meadow, environed with woods of all sorts, so thick that they serve for a shade to all that are invited, who sit upon beds of flowers, and are waited upon, and have everything brought unto them by the winds, unless it be to have the wine filled: and that there is no need of: for about the banqueting place are mighty great trees growing of clear and pure glass, and the fruit of those trees are drinking-cups and other kind of vessels of what fashion or greatness you will: and every man that comes to the feast gathers one or two of those cups, and sets them before him, which will be full of wine presently, and then they drink. Instead of garlands the nightingales and other musical birds gather flowers with their beaks out of the meadows adjoining, and flying over their heads with chirping notes scatter them among them.

They are anointed with sweet ointment in this manner: sundry clouds draw that unguent out of the fountains and the rivers, which settling over the heads of them that are at the banquet, the least blast of wind makes a small rain fall upon them like unto a dew. After supper they spend the time in music and singing: their ditties that are in most request they take out of Homer’s verses, who is there present himself and feasteth among them, sitting next above Ulysses: their choirs consist of boys and virgins, which were directed and assisted by Eunomus the Locrian, and Arion the Lesbian, and Anacreon, and Stesichorus, who hath had a place there ever since his reconcilement with Helena. As soon as these have done there enter a second choir of swans, swallows, and nightingales; and when they have ended, the whole woods ring like wind-instruments by the stirring of the air.

But that which maketh most for their mirth are two wells adjoining to the banqueting place, the one of laughter, the other of pleasure: of these every man drinks to begin the feast withal, which makes them spend the whole time in mirth and laughter.

I will also relate unto you what famous men I saw in that association. There were all the demigods, and all that fought against Troy, excepting Ajax the Locrian: he only, they told me, was tormented in the region of the unrighteous. Of barbarians there was the elder and the younger Cyrus, and Anacharsis the Scythian, Zamolxis the Thracian, and Numa the Italian. There was also Lycurgus the Lacedæmonian, and Phocion and Tellus the Athenians, and all the Wise Men, unless it were Periander.

I also saw Socrates, the son of Sophroniscus, prattling with Nestor and Palamedes, and close by him stood Hyacinthus the Lacedæmonian, and the gallant Narcissus and Hylas, and other beautiful and lovely youths, and for aught I could gather by him he was far in love with Hyacinthus, for he discoursed with him more than all the rest: for which cause, they said, Rhadamanthus was offended at him, and often threatened to thrust him out of the island if he continued to play the fool in that fashion, and not give over his idle manner of jesting, when he was at their banquet. Only Plato was not present, for they said he dwelled in a city framed by himself, observing the same rule of government and laws as he had prescribed for them to live under.

Aristippus and Epicurus are prime men amongst them, because they are the most jovial good fellows and the best companions. Diogenes the Sinopean was so far altered from the man he was before that he married with Lais the harlot, and was many times so drunk that he would rise and dance about the room as a man out of his senses. Æsop the Phrygian served them for a jester. There was not one Stoic in company but were still busied in ascending the height of virtue’s hill: and of Chrysippus we heard that it was not lawful for him by any means to touch upon the island until he have the fourth time purged himself with helleborus. The Academics, they say, were willing enough to come, but that they yet are doubtful and in suspense, and cannot comprehend how there should be any such island; but indeed, I think, they were fearful to come to be judged by Rhadamanthus, because themselves have abolished all kind of judgment: yet many of them, they say, had a desire, and would follow after those that were coming hither, but were so slothful as to give it over because they were not comprehensive, and therefore turned back in the midst of their way.

These were all the men of note that I saw there; and amongst them all Achilles was held to be the best man, and next to him Theseus. For their manner of venery and copulation thus it is: they couple openly in the eyes of all men, both with females and male kind, and no man holds it for any dishonesty. Only Socrates would swear deeply that he accompanied young men in a cleanly fashion, and therefore every man condemned him for a perjured fellow: and Hyacinthus and Narcissus both confessed otherwise for all his denial.

The women there are all in common, and no man takes exception at it, in which respect they are absolutely the best Platonists in the world: and so do the boys yield themselves to any man’s pleasure without contradiction.

After I had spent two or three days in this manner, I went to talk with Homer the poet, our leisure serving us both well, and to know of him what countryman he was, a question with us hard to be resolved, and he said he could not certainly tell himself, because some said he was of Chios, some of Smyrna, and many to be of Colophon; but he said indeed he was a Babylonian, and among his own countrymen not called Homer but Tigranes, and afterwards living as an hostage among the Grecians, he had therefore that name put upon him. Then I questioned him about those verses in his books that are disallowed as not of his making, whether they were written by him or not, and he told me they were all his own, much condemning Zenodotus and Aristarchus, the grammarians, for their weakness in judgment.

When he had satisfied me in this, I asked him again why he began the first verse of his poem with anger: and he told me it fell out so by chance, not upon any premeditation. I also desired to know of him whether he wrote his Odysseys before his Iliads, as many men do hold: but he said it was not so. As for his blindness which is charged upon him, I soon found it was far otherwise, and perceived it so plainly that I needed not to question him about it.

Thus was I used to do many days when I found him idle, and would go to him and ask him many questions, which he would give me answer to very freely: especially when we talked of a trial he had in the court of justice, wherein he got the better: for Thersites had preferred a bill of complaint against him for abusing him and scoffing at him in his Poem, in which action Homer was acquitted, having Ulysses for his advocate.

About the same time came to us Pythagoras the Samian, who had changed his shape now seven times, and lived in as many lives, and accomplished the periods of his soul. The right half of his body was wholly of gold; and they all agreed that he should have place amongst them, but were doubtful what to call him, Pythagoras or Euphorbus. Empedocles also came to the place, scorched quite over, as if his body had been broiled upon the embers; but could not be admitted for all his great entreaty.

The time passing thus along, the day of prizes for masteries of activity now approached, which they call Thanatusia. The setters of them forth were Achilles the fifth time, and Theseus the seventh time. To relate the whole circumstance would require a long discourse, but the principal points I will deliver. At wrestling Carus, one of the lineage of Hercules, had the best, and wan the garland from Ulysses. The fight with fists was equal between Arius the Ægyptian, who was buried at Corinth, and Epius, that combated for it. There was no prize appointed for the Pancratian fight: neither do I remember who got the best in running: but for poetry, though Homer without question were too good for them all, yet the best was given to Hesiodus. The prizes were all alike, garlands plotted of peacocks’ feathers.

As soon as the games were ended, news came to us that the damned crew in the habitation of the wicked had broken their bounds, escaped the gaolers, and were coming to assail the island, led by Phalaris the Agrigentine, Busyris the Ægyptian, Diomedes the Thracian, Sciron, Pituocamptes, and others: which Rhadamanthus hearing, he ranged the Heroes in battle array upon the sea-shore, under the leading of Theseus and Achilles and Ajax Telamonius, who had now recovered his senses, where they joined fight; but the Heroes had the day, Achilles carrying himself very nobly. Socrates also, who was placed in the right wing, was noted for a brave soldier, much better than he was in his lifetime, in the battle at Delium: for when the enemy charged him, he neither fled nor changed countenance: wherefore afterwards, in reward of his valour, he had a prize set out for him on purpose, which was a beautiful and spacious garden, planted in the suburbs of the city, whereunto he invited many, and disputed with them there, giving it the name of Necracademia.

Then we took the vanquished prisoners, and bound them, and sent them back to be punished with greater torments.

This fight was also penned by Homer, who, at my departure, gave me the book to show my friends, which I afterwards lost and many things else beside: but the first verse of the poem I remember was this: “Tell me now, Muse, how the dead Heroes fought.”

When they overcome in fight, they have a custom to make a feast with sodden beans, wherewith they banquet together for joy of their victory: only Pythagoras had no part with them, but sat aloof off, and lost his dinner because he could not away with beans.

Six months were now passed over, and the seventh halfway onwards, when a new business was begot amongst us. For Cinyras the son of Scintharus, a proper tall young man, had long been in love with Helena, and it might plainly be perceived that she as fondly doted upon him, for they would still be winking and drinking one to another whilst they were a-feasting, and rise alone together, and wander up and down in the wood. This humour increasing, and knowing not what course to take, Cinyras’ device was to steal away Helena, whom he found as pliable to run away with him, to some of the islands adjoining, either to Phello, or Tyroessa, having before combined with three of the boldest fellows in my company to join with them in their conspiracy; but never acquainted his father with it, knowing that he would surely punish him for it.

Being resolved upon this, they watched their time to put it in practice: for when night was come, and I absent (for I was fallen asleep at the feast), they gave a slip to all the rest, and went away with Helena to shipboard as fast as they could. Menelaus waking about midnight, and finding his bed empty, and his wife gone, made an outcry, and calling up his brother, went to the court of Rhadamanthus.

As soon as the day appeared, the scouts told them they had descried a ship, which by that time was got far off into the sea. Then Rhadamanthus set out a vessel made of one whole piece of timber of asphodelus wood, manned with fifty of the Heroes to pursue after them, which were so willing on their way, that by noon they had overtaken them newly entered into the milky ocean, not far from Tyroessa, so near were they got to make an escape. Then took we their ship and hauled it after us with a chain of roses and brought it back again.

Rhadamanthus first examined Cinyras and his companions whether they had any other partners in this plot, and they confessing none, were adjudged to be tied fast by the privy members and sent into the place of the wicked, there to be tormented, after they had been scourged with rods made of mallows. Helena, all blubbered with tears, was so ashamed of herself that she would not show her face. They also decreed to send us packing out of the country, our prefixed time being come, and that we should stay there no longer than the next morrow: wherewith I was much aggrieved and wept bitterly to leave so good a place and turn wanderer again I knew not whither: but they comforted me much in telling me that before many years were past I should be with them again, and showed me a chair and a bed prepared for me against the time to come near unto persons of the best quality.

Then went I to Rhadamanthus, humbly beseeching him to tell me my future fortunes, and to direct me in my course; and he told me that after many travels and dangers, I should at last recover my country, but would not tell me the certain time of my return: and showing me the islands adjoining, which were five in number, and a sixth a little further off, he said, Those nearest are the islands of the ungodly, which you see burning all in a light fire, but the other sixth is the island of dreams, and beyond that is the island of Calypso, which you cannot see from hence. When you are past these, you shall come into the great continent, over against your own country, where you shall suffer many afflictions, and pass through many nations, and meet with men of inhuman conditions, and at length attain to the other continent.

When he had told me this, he plucked a root of mallows out of the ground, and reached it to me, commanding me in my greatest perils to make my prayers to that: advising me further neither to rake in the fire with my knife, nor to feed upon lupins, nor to come near a boy when he is past eighteen years of age: if I were mindful of this, the hopes would be great that I should come to the island again.

Then we prepared for our passage, and feasted with them at the usual hour, and next morrow I went to Homer, entreating him to do so much as make an epigram of two verses for me, which he did: and I erected a pillar of berylstone near unto the haven, and engraved them upon it. The epigram was this:

Lucian, the gods’ belov’d, did once attain
To see all this, and then go home again.

After that day’s tarrying, we put to sea, brought onward on our way by the Heroes, where Ulysses closely coming to me that Penelope might not see him, conveyed a letter into my hand to deliver to Calypso in the isle of Ogygia. Rhadamanthus also sent Nauplius, the ferryman, along with us, that if it were our fortune to put into those islands, no man should lay hands upon us, because we were bent upon other employments.

PD’s 39-40: An Intimate Koinonia of Friends

The man who best knows how to meet external threats makes into one family all the creatures he can; and those he can not, he at any rate does not treat as aliens; and where he finds even this impossible, he avoids all dealings, and, so far as is advantageous, excludes them from his life. – Principal Doctrine 39

In the past, the Koinonia of Friends of Epicurus has produced memes with the #KnowYourCircle hashtag. This is an appeal to the logic of concentric circles that we find in Doctrine 39, which says that we should have an inner circle of beings who are familiar and trustworthy, an outer circle of acquaintances with whom we have some familiarity, and then there may be people who are outside of our circles and worthy of avoidance for reasons of safety or due to other annoyances. This Doctrine may have been inspired by the Timocrates affair.

We call this the Doctrine of eumetry, a term coined by aesthetician Panayotis Michelis to denote a non-mathematical and non-symmetrical harmony that can at times even be superior to symmetry–which is often considered an important standard in aesthetics, or the study of beauty. Michelis was saying was that sometimes beauty can be measured in non-standard ways. However, neo-Epicurean French philosopher and historian Michel Onfray adapted this neologism for use in ethics. It comes from the Greek “eu-” (good) and “-metry” is related to measure, or distance, so that it implies keeping “a good distance”, or keeping “a safe distance: not too close, not too far”, as Onfray puts it. Knowing the right distance to keep with many people is meant to guarantee peace of mind.

One of the great life-long existential tasks that every Epicurean must carry out is expressed in Doctrine 27: it consists on building our own tribe, our own circle of friends. Since the closing of the Letter to Menoeceus says that we have two fields of praxis as Epicureans (introspective meleta by ourselves, and social meleta with friends of like mind), we must include some knowledgeable, sincere, and happy Epicureans in our circle of friends. By enshrining these things in Doctrine, Epicurus made it clear that he wanted his disciples to create intellectual tribes, to associate with and blend their minds with people who think alike.

Some of the Principal Doctrines “give a sermon together”–meaning, they must be interpreted in sequence or as part of a whole, because they seem to have been born as conclusions from a single, ongoing conversation among the Founders. That is the case with the last two Doctrines, and we must also consider why they were placed last. Once Doctrine 39 has been practiced consistently, and we have created an inner circle, Kyriai Doxai closes with these instructions:

Those who were best able to provide themselves with the means of security against their neighbors, being thus in possession of the surest guarantee, passed the most pleasant life in each other’s society; and their enjoyment of the fullest intimacy was such that, if one of them died before his time, the survivors did not mourn his death as if it called for sympathy. – Principal Doctrine 40

Once we have built our fortress of the soul and surrounded ourselves with “Friends of like mind”, we are able to enjoy an intimate society of Friends. This is the final instruction of Kyriai Doxai. It helps us to create a healthy and stimulating environment for Epicurean practice, for exploring the tasks and Doctrines both by ourselves and with others. It’s written in the past tense, which may indicate that we are to look to the founders as role models for ideas about what this intimate society of Friends looks like.

Perhaps as should be expected for the last one of the Principal Doctrines, it includes instructions on how NOT to mourn our Epicurean friends. Epicurus says we should remember them not with lamentations, but with pleasant remembrance. One of the Vatican Sayings teaches the practice of pleasant remembrance for that which we can not change. So there is a particular Epicurean tradition of remembering our Friends, which was enshrined in the Twentieth feasts which are in actuality memorial services for the Founders (and, broadly, for our Friends in philosophy who have parted).

Once you have an intimate society of Epicurean Friends, it’s natural that some will die, and we may be obligated (by oath) or compelled (by a sense of loyalty) to honor our friends’ memory in a manner that is true to their beliefs. The Roman Epicureans developed a tradition of burial where they placed the words “Non fvi. Fvi. Non svm. Non cvro.” (I was not, I was, I am not, I care not) on their tombstones. We may develop similar traditions today, or revive the ancient tradition. Part of the point of this Doctrine is that the practice of remembrance of our dead should be consistent with the rest of our theory and praxis. We must create Epicurean cultural expression that is authentic and reflects our values.

On Koinonia

I spoke here about our circles as intellectual tribes, and in my essay for How to Live a Good Life, I defended tribalism as a non-politically-correct but naturally-correct practice, based on the hundreds of thousands of years during which our ancestors evolved in tribal societies, and based on the Dunbar number. There’d be nothing special about being Epicurean if everyone could be Epicurean. It’s an intimate circle of friends, and somewhat exclusive. I now wish to tie this communitarian Doctrine to the sources.

Epicurean Koinonia are bound by hedonic contracts. Epicurus, in Principal Doctrines 37-38, uses the term κοινωνία (koinonia), saying that justice exists only in the context of companions who have agreements of mutual benefit. Depending on how the Doctrines are worded in English, it translates as “companions” or as “association”. When used in the New Testament, it’s often translated as “fellowship”, which is defined as:

1 : companionship, company
2a : community of interest, activity, feeling, or experience
b : the state of being a fellow or associate
3 : a company of equals or friends : association
4 : the quality or state of being comradely
5 obsolete : membership, partnership

The word is of Greek origin and was not used by Jesus, who spoke Aramaic. It appears in the Pauline literature in Acts 2:42, in 2 Corinthians 9:13, and in Philippians 3:10, which lends credibility to the theory by Norman DeWitt that the “apostle” Paul (who is credited with authoring these epistles) appropriated many Epicurean concepts and adapted them for his New Testament epistles (he also imitated our epistolary literary tradition).

DeWitt’s theory is that Paul was steeped in the study of Epicureanism, and that he transferred the concepts from our philosophy into his new religion, assigning new meaning to the concepts. But we are not interested in what koinonia came to mean for Christians. If we try to imagine ways in which Paul would have discovered the joys of fellowship among the Epicureans, or ways in which we can experience these pleasures today, we would come up with:

spending time with our friends and blending our minds with theirs
studying, learning, practicing, teaching, and creating together
honoring each other with gifts and celebrating each other’s birthdays and other joys
helping each other, when necessary
trusting our Epicurean Friends and turning to them when we have problems
even when we apply parrhesia (frank criticism), we may use suavity (the Epicurean virtue of sweet, kind speech) to soften the harshness of our words

Concerning the first point, the Havamal (although it’s from another tradition) has one stanza that accurately explains that “care will gnaw at your heart if you can’t share all your mind with another“. The second point fulfils Epicurus’ instructions on meleta, which should be done both by ourselves (introspection) and with “others of like mind“.

One further point must be made, based on the contextual interpretation of PD’s 37-38. These Doctrines deal with problems related to discerning how natural justice applies in a particular situation. Natural justice exists only where there are agreements between Friends. Since the use of koinonia in the Epicurean scriptures is restricted to this context, we assume that this fellowship is only possible among Friends who have such agreements (which require trust and a high degree of clear communication). These agreements may take the concrete forms of written contracts, verbal agreements, or oaths. Outside of this, there is no natural, concrete justice, and therefore no koinonia. This means that justice (defined as mutual benefit, and avoidance of mutual harm) is one of the foundations for Epicurean Friendship, since it’s not seen to flourish among people who do not agree to not harm each other, but to benefit each other. In this way, we can understand why the Doctrines on justice precede the final two in the progression of ideas that we find in the Kyriai Doxai, and why they’re advantageous for our happiness, and therefore included in the canonical collection of maxims as required practice.

Since these Doctrines discuss the intimacy of our communities, they’re a good place to evaluate the utility of the word Koinonia. It might be more advantageous for us to refer to the Society of Friends of Epicurus as a Koinonia, rather than as “this Society”, which may at times (by people who are hostile to us, or who are ignorant) be misconstrued to refer to the entire society of which we are part of, when we in reality are only referring to those who are in our circle and who are armed for happiness. The adoption of the term Koinonia may, therefore, be a clearer and more specific way for Epicureans to refer to our own circles of Friends, rather than “society” or other words whose meaning is broader.